Valiance
by RubyManhatten
Summary: Sure Sherlock knows the dictionary definition, but it's not until late one night that he really knows the meaning. Sherlock and John non-slash. SEQUEL: INTELLIGENCE. Please READ and REVIEW!


Valiance

Author's Note: Just a one shot... Might do a companion piece as a follow up if there's enough interest, do let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Love, Ruby xx

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the master of deduction or anything associated with him.

彡Valiance - the qualities of a hero or heroine; exceptional or heroic courage when facing danger, especially in battle. 彡

The technical definition carries power, denotes courage and impiles a strong character. I, of course, knew the definition; but it was hollow and meaningless until I had experienced it first hand. Valiance truly is a quality wanted by all but possessed by a chosen few. Of those few, John Watson is most certainly one.

•

"John, could you pass me your phone please?" I asked. A fairly normal request from me really, nothing unusual here. He threw it over and it hit my stomach, also a usual response. He'd given up with asking why a long time ago which I am intensely grateful for. I sent a small text to Mycroft, just to irritate him. I was bored. The reply that I got to my 'I'm just a little better at this than you and don't you know it' style text, was unusual.

I'm sure you're brother's incredibly proud of you. Although you'll have to find him to find out, won't you? ;) - M

that was the beginning of the longest night of my life.

"What's wrong?" John asked as he sat up, clearly reading the concern written across my face. I sprang up off the sofa, if Moriarty wanted to play this 'game', then it was between me and him, my last remaining family member was to be left alone. I had to find him.

"Moriarty has Mycroft." I said quickly as I looked up at John. His face fell and the colour quickly ran from his cheeks.

"I thought you didn't care about your brother?" he asked, a fairly reasonable question really, considering the feud that existed between us.

"He's my brother. My last remaining blood relative. Just because you and Harry don't get on, would that imply you wouldn't go to her aid if she needed you?" I replied as calmly as was truly possible in this situation. John shook his head slowly, he understood. John always understands, even when I'm being completely unreasonable, John never fails to understand.

I was in a pretty bad state by the time we'd caught the cab and arrived at Scotland Yard, although you couldn't tell, I'm a horrifically good actor. I explained to the simpletons at the Yard what had happened and showed them the text, all the while John stood beside me. I'm glad he didn't go, I did need him there. I'd never tell anyone though. They tracked the signal to a small 'shack' that backed onto a block of flats down in East London.

We were there in five minutes, not a bad time really. I left John to pay the cabbie, he always does, and ran towards the shack which was just that. A shack that barely stood with half of the main structural wood riddled with woodworm and rotten. I tentatively pushed the door open and peered inside. I remember briefly hearing a small tickin noise before a big blast.

My vision went black and I felt a faint weight against me, I thought it was some of the shack, but it was warm and breathing erratically. Wood did not do that.

"Sherlock," it said, "Sherlock, are you ok?". My vision was a little hazy but I could easily make out it was John. He must have pushed me out of the way of the main blast. He saved my life.

"John? I'm fine honestly." I said as I staggered to a sort of standing position which was surprisingly difficult considering my vision was extremely blurred. "A trap. Moriarty intended to kill me, and you. I need to find Mycroft." I said without hesitation.

It was only when my eyesight returned that I could see streams of scarlet running down my arms and down John's face and mine. Maybe not tonight. Moriarty wouldn't kill Mycroft, he was the only bait he had, this I was confident in.

221B was eerily quiet. I wanted to talk to John, but I didn't know how. Words just refused to form on my tongue and my brain stalled. This is why I never aknowledged emotions, they only cloud views and impair judgement. This is a view I still retain. I was not going to sleep, I may have hated Mycroft, but he was my brother. My last remaining blood relative. I was going to find him by morning, I had to.

At about ten, I received another text:

Looks like I missed. Follow the trail to see your brother. I'm sure he won't mind a slight delay in his schedule- M

That guy was really getting on my nerves by now. There was no trail to follow, I didn't understand. I got up from the sofa and put my coat and scalf on; I knew John would follow me.

We went back to the blast scene; there had to be something.

Standard plastic explosive, nothing special there. Electronic detonator, now that was something. Small switch, remotely operated, impossible to track. But there was more. It felt familiar, I'd seen this before. Yes, in lighters that I'd taken apart for my experiments. But this had to be pressed, and the electrical charge created that way. This was quite complex, a new entity for Moriarty.

I ran and caught a cab to St Bart's lab where I quickly ran a detailed analysis on swabs I collected at the scene for the explosive and examined the detonator. "What's going on, Sherlock?" John asked softly whilst putting his hands in his pockets, clearly nervous.

"He's left this at the scene for a reason, the rest of it had been cleared up." I replied as I held out the detonator for him to see. "I should have looked at the scene immediately after the explosion." I scolded myself, slamming my fist down on the table in front of me. What if he hurt Mycroft because I felt I couldn't do anything after the bomb? I'd wasted time and I knew it.

"You couldn't have done any more. He's not going to hurt your brother. He needs him as bait Sherlock." John was right, I'd taught him well.

Despite this, I couldn't afford to run the risk of him getting hurt, we both knew how unpredictable Moriarty was at the best of time's, it was best to assume the worst and work from there. I couldn't bring myself to assume the worst here though, I really don't know what I'd have done without Mycroft. Annoying as he may have been, he's still my brother.

I looked up and I had a hit on the bomb explosive; potassium nitrate. Oh, now that was unexpected. "John, the explosive's potassium nitrate!" I practically jumped from my seat and grabbed his shoulders. The next thing I knew we'd left the lab and we were running to the local firework wholesalers.

I don't remember much of the drive there, only that my heart was in my throat and John was shifting uneasily next to me. My body was pumped full of adrenaline and my breathing erratic.

Upon arriving at the warehouse, I observed a large shot gun, thrown down on the floor to the right of the main door, which was slightly open. It was clear John had seen it and had made a mental note of it's whereabouts incase he needed it later.

The warehouse itself was still dark inside, and the constant dripping of water from a leaking pipe to my left told me that this room was probably free from explosives.

I turned to my right and flipped the light switch so the lights were on. Just as I thought, no fireworks. Just three men in the centre of the room. Two of which I knew, the last was irrelevant; he was only there to appear intimidating.

"Let him go." I said, plainly and clearly. John stood strongly next to me, ever so slightly infront of me to my left. The door closed fully behind us, John visibly flinched at the thought of not being able to reach the shotgun anymore; I remained unphased by this realisation.

"Of course, Mr Holmes. On one condition, that your little friend here, I believe we've met before?" Moriarty leaned a little in John's direction, "Yes, I believe we have. Yes, John comes and releases him." he finished with a slight smirk.

"No, that's not happening." I held out my left arm in front of John as he attempted to take a step forward towards my brother who was tied up on a small chair, completely unable to move.

"You're no fun any more Sherlock, it appears you care about this pet of yours." he spat. "Well, I guess I'll just have to release him myself."

He cut Mycroft free, who got up quickly and began to stagger over to me. This was going too smoothly, what did he want?

I was focused on my brother's leg injury as he was limping. I barely registered Moriarty levelling his gun and firing a shot in our direction. John's army reactions kicked in and he lept across my brother, tackling him to the floor.

The door suddenly shook as the polive and Lestrade stormed in, but Moriarty had gone.

Mycroft was tended to, so I rolled John onto his back. The colour ran from my face as I saw blood pouring from John's stomach. That bullet had hit him. His face was crumpled up in pain as I instantly applied pressure to the wound. "Stay with me John! Stay with me!" I said softly to him. "Paramedic!" I screamed next, and a whole hoard of people flocked around us as I watched the life pour from John's body.

I was pushed out of the way by the overzealous doctors, and a stray tear may have fallen. 


End file.
